


Without Hesitation or Regret

by bastet_in_april



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-07
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastet_in_april/pseuds/bastet_in_april
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Space pirate and freelance revolutionary Dinah Lance and Intergalactic Military sanctioned mercenary and bounty hunter Slade Wilson, with occasional commentary from Dinah’s intelligent Ship, the Oracle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Without Hesitation or Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a present for [](http://merfilly.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://merfilly.livejournal.com/)**merfilly** 's birthday! Sci-Fi AU.

The port is full of refugee crafts from the system Dinah Lance herself has just recently come from. Some of them are sleek, expensive-looking crafts, their perfect forms now pocked with battle scarring, belonging to the recently deposed government of the Regulus system fleeing the vindictive populace they had once controlled. Others are the barely space-worthy and ancient ships of the residents of Regulus System, who had responded to the overturning of the dictatorship by taking immediate advantage of the lifting of the strict prohibitions on space travel out of the system. Dinah was pleased to note that several ships that had belonged to the dictator, himself, had fallen into the hands of these sort of refugees after Dinah and the band of Regulan revolutionaries she had been aiding had stormed the palace and driven out the officials and their military guard.

Dinah can hear Oracle’s voice complaining in her ear about the  scars from energy weapon fire marring her shining armored bulk, but there is the satisfaction in the Ship’s voice that comes from a successful battle coordinated with few casualties. Dinah also suspects that when the corrupt officials try to establish themselves again away from Regulus, they will find that their electronic bank accounts will no longer support them in the style to which they are accustomed.

After securing The Oracle and promising her full repairs before they leave port (at which point, her Ship states that she has already made the arrangements for that, and a reputable work crew will be there first thing the next morning), Dinah sets off into the port town to find herself accommodations and a place to unwind. Her body is still buzzing with the adrenaline of the fiercely physical ground battle, in which Dinah had had to lead fighters of various levels of expertise, followed by a frenzied space battle, in which Dinah had taken a back seat to Oracle’s superior expertise in ship against ship fighting. She sets out for the closest place with gym facilities, hoping to work some of the coiled tension out of her muscles.

It turns out that the gym is actually primarily a shooting range, and most of its visitors are there for that, so Dinah has the dojo space pretty much to herself.  She takes a bag and throws herself at it, falling back into familiar movements she's known from childhood. The gravity is light here, so Dinah feels more of an effort to keep her movements contained than she does in making them. Eventually she feels the hummingbird wings humming under her breastbone calm, fading into a pleasant feeling of thorough use in her muscles. That knotted tension she feels when she engages an opponent from a chair in space, rather than directly, under her own power, is finally slipping away. At that point, she moves on to a series of katas. She is about midway through the second, when she feels the eyes on her.

There is man standing with one foot on the dojo floor and one foot on the floor of the hallway behind it. His posture is easy, resting against the frame of the door, arms crossed loosely over his broad chest. His one blue eye is assessing and appreciative, not just of her body, but of the use she is getting out of it. Dinah does not need Oracle’s voice in her ear to tell her who this is.

“Long time no see, Wilson,” she says, and hears Oracle’s voice, which had been reading the files that the ship had collected from the galactic infonet, stutter abruptly to a stop. Dinah does not doubt that her Ship’s data-combing has abruptly switched directions; Oracle will want to know why the space pirate Black Canary would get within five systems of Slade Wilson, bounty hunter and mercenary, Deathstroke, who frequently works with unofficial Intergalactic Military sanction.

Slade’s mouth quirks up into an inviting smile. “Probably for the best, considering the circumstances under which we parted ways.”

Dinah’s lips thin slightly at the reminder, but she pushes it aside to look at Slade considering. “You don’t have to hover in the doorway,” she invites, and settles into a ready stance, waiting.

Slade’s flashes his teeth and moves to meet her.

Dinah is worn from several days of fighting mixed with careful surveillance, sabotage and a lot of waiting, but she settles eagerly into the spar. Slade eyebrows rise appreciatively, recognizing that the small brunette has improved since he last fought with her, honing her skills and pushing her limits to a much higher degree. By the time they end the spar, both of them are smiling fiercely. Dinah feels the warmth that has settled with such familiarity into her belly at crossing blows with this man. Slade sees the welcoming and anticipation heating her stormy blue eyes, and leans down. She tilts her head up to meet him in a very thorough kiss. When they break apart finally, for breath, Dinah murmurs, “I have a room about a five minute walk away.” Her hands want to wander their way across the expanse of Slade’s chest, but she forces them to still themselves.

Slade’s hand is resting on the back of Dinah’s neck. “I think we can make it there faster if we hurry,” he says, and the sound of his deep voice makes Dinah’s skin buzz with anticipation.

“Let’s go,” Dinah breathes, and they turn towards the door as one.

Oracle makes a disparaging comment in her ear about how bad an idea this is, but Dinah ignores her. “Keep that up, and I’ll just shut our link off completely,” Dinah murmurs distractedly under her breath, her eyes sweeping the broad shouldered form in front of her appreciatively.

“Dinah…” Oracle presses, frustrated and worried.

“I’ll be careful, O. You can tell me ‘I told you so’, later, okay?”

Oracle sighs. “I wish I didn’t have to say it so often,” she mutters, half to herself, and shuts off the link.

Watching Slade move, Dinah can’t bring herself to care that she might regret this later.

***  



	2. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Tim have a strange visitor who is searching for something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [](http://rocaw.livejournal.com/profile)[**roguecatwoman**](http://rocaw.livejournal.com/). More of the [Sci-Fi AU](http://bastet-in-april.livejournal.com/tag/scifi+au).

The clatter of Tim’s fingers across the keyboard and his frustrated sighs were the only audible sound, other than the mechanical white noise of all of Tim’s modified and jury-rigged electronics and the noises normally associated with the day to day functioning of the salvage yard. Those were mostly subdued now, since Dick was occupied with watching Tim rather than mucking about with the innards of any of the old ships and space junk that cluttered the yard.

“Problems, little brother?” Dick asked, settling down in a chair with a mug of tea, and sliding the other mug he carried onto the table, near Tim’s elbow.

Tim picked up the mug gratefully. “I’ve been trying to access the black box files of that ship you pulled in last week— the one with the weird hull breach?”

Dick nodded. It had been a barely space-worthy craft to begin with, but whatever had happened to it, it hadn’t been a mechanic failure. That hole, with its edges as clean as though someone had cut through warm wax with a scalpel…

“I’ve managed to load the files into my system but I can’t get it to read the logs. The files are partly corrupted, and the fact that the ship and its tech is so obsolete doesn’t help…” Tim shook his head in dismay. “It’s going to take longer than I’d hoped. I may need to call in some favors and get Oracle’s help on this, assuming Oracle contacts me anytime in the near future.”

Dick’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Ah, yes, your mysterious hacker friend who you won’t tell me anything about.”

Tim looked at him flatly. “Because I don’t know anything _to_ tell you. Oracle contacts me, not the other way around, and I’ve no idea who he or she is or where to find them. I just know that Oracle’s skills make mine seem pale in comparison. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

“All right, all right,” Dick held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll try to hold off teasing you until there’s actually something to tease you about.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to be satisfied with that,” Tim shot back wryly, taking a swallow of his tea.

Suddenly, as one, both dark heads turned towards the door that led out to the salvage yard.

“Did you hear…?”

“Shh.”

The sound came again, a sort of scuffling sound followed by a faint metallic clatter.

“Did Jason say he was going to be dropping by?” Tim whispered.

Dick shook his head, bewildered. “Jason’s off-world with Selina. Won’t be back for another two weeks.”

Tim’s eyebrows went up. “I thought you said you didn’t want to know the details of Jason’s work?”

“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know when to expect him back safe. It’s not that I don’t think Selina will watch his back out there, I just…”

“Feel the need to be hypocritically overprotective? It’s not like what you do out there is any less dangerous, Dick.”

Dick glared at him. “It’s Jason. It’s different.”

Tim softened. “I know, but don’t you think—”

Tim was cut off abruptly by the loud crash of a large piece of metal being tossed aside.

“Okay, there is definitely somebody out there,” Dick said, getting up and setting aside his mug. He shook his head in incredulity. “Seriously, why would anyone bother stealing from a salvage yard? Nothing out there is space-worthy. Anything we’re actually repairing and restoring is put away in the hangar.” He stalked towards the door, visibly curious.

Tim hastily abandoned his own tea and moved to join Dick.

The two young men stepped out into the yard, where they could hear even more clearly the sound of someone rummaging through the scrap parts and wrecked ships. They picked their way through the salvaged wrecks of lost or abandoned ships in the direction of the sounds. As they closed in on the noises, it became clear that whoever was making them was actually inside the very wreck that they had discussed earlier, and whose black box files had so stumped Tim.

Making their way between torn up bits of metal and the skeletal structures of half-stripped ships, Dick and Tim reached the ugly matte gray and rust red ship with the perfectly circular hole marring its otherwise intact form. The doors to its passenger area were gaping open. Dick and Tim paused briefly to eye one another before hauling themselves up through the doorway, paint flaking away under their fingers whenever their hands clutched the metal sides of the door. They were making their way into the belly of the ship when the intruder emerged from a passage, glanced at them blithely and simply brushed past them back out of the ship. Dick and Tim stared blankly after her for a moment and then scrambled to follow.

By the time they caught up with the intruder, it was because she had paused to wait expectantly for them in the doorway leading back into the home. She graciously punched the button to open the still-unlocked door and gestured for Dick and Tim to precede her inside. She was carrying a small object clasped to her chest, presumably it was whatever she had come to find. Dick shrugged and nodded at the young woman. “All right,” he said. “We may as well talk this over inside. You never did finish your tea, Tim.” The young woman nodded firmly, and went to perch on the edge of the table, leaning on the space beside Tim’s computer equipment, as Dick and Tim resumed their seats in their chairs. Dick made as if to get the stranger an extra chair, but she waved him off. Tim sat back to sip at his cooling tea, studying their guest pensively.

The intruder in the scrap yard was a young woman of Asian descent about Tim’s age, or perhaps a bit older, with a small, graceful figure, brown eyes and black hair cropped to just above her shoulders. She was wearing a plain black flightsuit with no adornments or insignia. The young woman was still clutching whatever she had pulled out the ship, as if it were deeply precious to her. As far as Tim could tell, it was a tiny portable file compact, and couldn’t be storing anything large or any valuable information that would be carrying security tags and encryptions.

Dick made all three of them fresh mugs of tea, handing them out before settling down again. “So, you were obviously looking for something specific and knew where to find it. Something of yours was on that ship?”

The young woman nodded, clutching the file compact possessively, shooting a fierce glare at them.

Tim hastily reassured her. “We aren’t going to take it away from you. It’s just that we’ve been trying to find out what happened to that ship. Were you on it?”

The stranger relaxed slightly, but shook her head, staring down at the object she had rescued from the ship’s wreckage forlornly.

“You knew someone who was,” Tim concluded quietly. The woman still hadn’t said a single word during the entire exchange, and it was beginning to discomfit him.

The young woman’s face crumpled and she hid it quickly in her hands, slumping in her seat, her shoulders heaving.

Dick was immediately up out of his chair, patting their guest on the shoulders and murmuring whatever comforts came to mind. Tim bit his lip, at a loss for what to do other than scoot closer to the stranger, in hopes that that might help. Finally, her shaking subsided, and she wiped her face, looking up at them again.

“What is your name?” Tim asked, after a moment.

The young woman opened her mouth, paused, frowned, and then shook her head.

Dick blinked, frowning, coming to the same realization that Tim had. Their visitor hadn’t said a word, this entire time. She clearly followed their conversation, so it wasn’t that she spoke another language. Dick tried signing Tim’s question again, in hopes that knowing that he could read signs would urge her to communicate with them that way if she was holding back because she thought they wouldn’t know signs, but she only shook her head in incomprehension. Some sort of recent injury that had caused the loss of her voice, and she hadn’t had the chance to learn to sign yet?

The dark-haired woman looked deeply frustrated. Abruptly she turned to Tim’s computer, and ran a hand across it. The screen minimized the files Tim had been attempting to restore opening a new command prompt box. Tim had started out of his seat in alarm, but he subsided, watching the screen in fascination. The stranger carefully kept her hand in contact with the computer as she pulled up a couple of partial specs that were enough to make Tim’s blood chill. Carefully bolded for their reading convenience was the script: Project Name: Cassandra.

Tim was actually shaking, he was so angry at what had been done to her. “You can’t talk to us at all, can you? Someone made you this way, changed you when you were a child, so that you can talk to machines, but as a consequence you can’t speak at all!”

Cassandra nodded.

Dick shivered. He couldn’t even imagine what changing a child to that degree would entail, but it would have been terribly physically and mentally taxing and very illegal. That Cassandra had even survived that degree of modification was a miracle. “Is that what you were looking for? Were the people who did this to you on that ship?” he asked, wanting to hit someone.

Cassandra shook her head, looking mildly affronted. She leaned over and plugged the file compact into Tim’s computer, so that they could see what it contained, and settled back with a wistful look.

It was a fragment of a video file labeled “steph”. A blonde girl about Tim’s age had her head tilted back and was laughing joyfully, her blue eyes full of tears of mirth. Cass’s fingers traced the girl’s grin wistfully, as the clip repeated endlessly on loop.

“Oh,” Tim said quietly. “She… was on that ship?”

Cass nodded. Stopping the file and removing the storage cube from the computer, she turned to face them. The computer next to her pulled up a search box.

“You’re trying to find out what happened to her,” Dick concluded. “Well, so are we, so we might as well look together.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at Dick.

“What? We were already trying to find out what happened to that ship, and she was on it, so we’re trying to find out what happened to her, as well. Besides, you can’t tell me you don’t want to help find her, Tim.”

“I do,” Tim agreed immediately, his mind flitting to the girl in the video. “It’s just strange; she seemed familiar.”

Cass cocked her head and Dick stared in surprise. “You know her?” he asked.

“No,” Tim clarified. “It’s more like I’ve seen her picture somewhere but can’t place where.”

“Looks like you’re going to end up owing Oracle a lot of favors whenever you manage to contact him or her,” Dick told Tim. “We still need help with those files, we could certainly use that kind of information-gathering expertise in our search for the girl in the video, and we’re going to need help finding a way to help Cass learn to talk, despite what’s been done to her.”


End file.
